


Words Words Words

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Drabble, Explicit Language, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, One Shot, Romantic Soulmates, Short One Shot, Soulmates, Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: Peter was ten when he got his words.Peter was ten when the words that his soulmate would say appeared on his back.Peter was ten when "like this guy; he looks like the kind of guy that can bend himself like a pretzel and get fucked into the next century" were etched into his skin.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 35
Kudos: 628
Collections: Peter Parker, The Best Harley Keener & (or /) Peter Parker Fics





	Words Words Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Indigosthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigosthen/gifts).



On a fateful August morning, ten year old, Peter Parker got his words for the first time.

He had been enjoying a plate of waffles and whipped cream when his back started to burn. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes, waiting for the searing heat to dissipate. Finally, when the pain dialed down, he sprung up from his seat.

“My words! I got my words!” Peter exclaimed with glee.

May and Ben gave toothy smiles and headed over to the bouncing boy. “Where did you feel it?”

Peter peeled off his sleepshirt and pointed to his back (to the best of his unlimber ability). “Here! Here!”

As May slipped on her reading glasses and Ben leaned in to read, they both went uncharacteristically silent.

“What? What’s wrong?” Peter asked

“You.. uh… nothing, sweetheart, just… not what we expected,” May said.

“What does it say?” Peter questioned nervously,

“Well, see, bud, it… it’s got a bad word in it,” Ben said.

Peter frowned. “But it’s not polite to say bad words.”

“No, it’s not. So, you can’t repeat this after we tell you,” he replied.

“Ben,” May whispered warningly.

“He has to know. It’s his words,” Ben argued. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It says ‘Like this guy; he looks like the kind of guy that can bend himself like a pretzel and get fucked into the next century.’”

Peter scrunched his nose. “What does that even mean?”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Ben reassured.

May ripped her reading glasses off and massaged her temples. “God, of course, our perfect, polite Peter is matched with a vulgar…” 

“May,” Ben interjected.

“Well, how am I supposed to feel, Ben? I just want the best for our little boy.”

“They’ll obviously be older,” he said.

“They better be,” May said, an edge to her tone.

“How ‘bout you finish those waffles, and we can get ready to go see that  _ Green Lantern _ you’ve been raving about.”

And with that, Peter had already forgotten about his words.

However, once Peter was old enough to really understand his words, he learned to despise them.

Adults were appalled by them, gasping and gawking at such crass and coarse language. Peers had just another reason to pick on him, Peter Parker, a pretzel to be fucked. And Peter? It was just another thing that a little shrimp of a kid, too smart for his own good, to be embarrassed and ashamed of.

There’s only so many ways someone can interpret a first impression like that, and none of them are good.

Peter couldn’t imagine that kind of person his soulmate may be. A drunken frat boy at a party? An observer during the fitness testing in PE? Whoever they were, they were a dirty minded ass whose mind was only in one place.

But what boggled Peter the most was the sentiment itself. He wasn’t flexible. He was the opposite of sprightly and nimble. He was stiff and gangly and tripped over his own two feet. How could anyone think he could do the things his words implied?

But then, he got the spider bite, and all of a sudden he was a master gymnast. He even did stretches every night before patrolling, making sure his muscles were ready to endure the intense and arduous exercise. 

It was then that Peter had started to wonder if maybe he would meet his soulmate in the suit.

But then Mysterio happened, and his soulmate became the last thing on his mind.

It was only a year later did things really start looking up for Peter. His life was finding a semblance of normality.

Taking a break from Spider-Man and New York was stressful enough, but adding taking away everything he was familiar with, his only consistent outlet and routine, a murder trial and year of press and scrutiny, and to top it all off, heading off to Massachussetts to do four to eight years of university at MIT, Peter was beyond stressed.

Which is why he decided to take a yoga course on his Saturday morning. It was a small class, barely anyone in it, and the people who were in it didn’t give a rat’s ass about who he was, which he appreciated.

He was doing some pre-yoga stretches, ones that he had to push further than the usual person with his spider bite enhanced flexibility.

He was in the middle of a middle split, body completely flush with the floor with his head on the cool hardwood, when he heard it. Words he had been dreading to hear his entire life.

In a thick Tennessee accent, warm and dark and hushed to a rumble, he heard it. “...like this guy; he looks like the kind of guy that can bend himself like a pretzel and get fucked into the next century.”

Peter’s head snapped up and he got a good look at the voice. Tall, blonde, dreamy blue eyes, in a tight cable knit long sleeve pushed to his elbows, with a face bright pink as he realized that Peter had heard what he said. “Well, you know, it depends on who’s doing the fucking, because if it’s you, I might need a couple rounds before the next century.”

His eyes bulged out wide, mouth dropping. His face, burning even brighter, was buried in his hands. “I can’t believe the first thing I say to my soulmate is… is… is that!”

“How do you think I feel?” Peter countered back. 

“How do you think  _ I  _ feel?” Harley parroted. “I had no idea what the hell this dumb, big mouth was going to say to get that response. And now I… oh golly, I’ve just made a fool of myself.” He took a step forward, hand out. “Harley Keener. Mechanical engineer major, campus car mechanic, king of making an ass out of himself and…” He smiled. “Your soulmate.”

“Peter Parker. Biomedical and chemical engineering double major, frequenter of this yoga studio, Spider-Man, and…” He shook his hand. “Your soulmate.”

Harley’s face blanched, but he covered it with a playful smirk to hide his panic. “Well, maybe I should really come to yoga more often.”

“Or, maybe we can grab lunch after?”

Harley’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thank God. Because I was just here to tell Coriander that her engine is running again.”

“And ogle at the yoga goers,” Peter pointed out.

“That may have been a perk.” Harley stepped forward. “But I gotta say, my eyes are set on just one.”

Peter blushed. “Noon. Beanies. I’ll see you there.”

Harley grinned. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you want to join a Parkner Discord, click [here!](https://discord.gg/vztSVpg)


End file.
